Author Note: A story when a person has lost the will to live. All the words in italics are the thoughts of the person. End of Author note.
Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash
An old man looked out of the small window his studio apartment. The children playing outside could not ease the loneliness of the apartment.
On seeing him, the children waved their hands to him. Although he waves back, a small gesture could not compensate the years of his loneliness.
He looks at his preparation with admiration. He has outdone himself this time. Now, it was time for him to take action.
Most of his life revolved around creating a hangman’s knot. He is an expert in this. No wonder, he created the best for himself.
He stands on the stool and grabs the rope with shivering hands.
Doing it yourself is so difficult.
He takes a deep breath and puts his neck in the rope.
Just when he is about to kick the stool, his phone starts ringing. His leg stops mid-air.
What? It took a huge effort to reach to this stage. Now, somebody just ruins it by a phone call?
“Darn it. Let me pick it up.”
Getting off the stool, he snatches the phone off the table and answers, “Hello?” No response.
“Hello?” he raises his voice in despair and huffs. No response. The line cuts.
He drops his shoulders and massages his head to ease the headache he is having.
This is exhausting. I cannot continue with this today.
He throws the phone, picks up the stool and keeps it at the corner of the room. Lying down on his bed, he observes the knot.
One more day.
— — — — — — xx — — — — — — —
After a night’s rest, the old man looks at the knot again.
Should I just use a knife instead? Nah, I do not know if that will work or not.
With these ongoing thoughts, he pushes the stool till it is under the knot.
He takes a deep breath and climbs on the stool again. As soon as he was about to knock the stool off, the phone rings again. Pissed, he looks at the phone.
“Not again. Who is not letting me do this? Just stop already!” he cries in desperation.
With the hope that it is a different person, he gets down and answers the phone again.
“Who is it?” he asks.
Silence. Somehow, he could feel it was the same person as yesterday.
“Can you speak up, for God’s sake.” he shouts. Thinking that someone is monitoring him, he looks out. Empty balconies.
The line cuts, he tries calling back, but no one picks it up.
He plops on the stool and covers his face with his hands. So difficult to stand on this. With crazed look in his eyes, he curses the caller for a moment and then begins to cry.
After some time, he stops crying. Now much level headed than before, he is curious to know who is not allowing him to die.
He calls the number.
He stands up with excitement when the call is answered. “Hello” he speaks. No answer. “Can you talk to me please?” he begs.
The call is disconnected. But in the next moment, his phone chimes. He opens his phone to see a text message.
“Hi” it said.
“Why are you not speaking on the phone?” he asks straight to the point.
“Oh sorry. I am a mute.”
“Where can you see me from”
“Oh, I cannot see you.”
“Then how do you know”
“Your furniture made a lot of noise.”
He connects the points and gasps in realization. He rushes down to the apartment beneath his.
Taking a deep breath, he rings the bell. The door opens and a young lady in a wheel chair smiles at him.
He knew she could not speak. A few moments pass and it becomes awkward, as he did not know how to face this.
She gestures him to come inside.
She takes up a notebook with a pen and writes, “I am Mia, a novelist. We never met formally, glad to meet you.” The endless smile on her face never gave up.
Her cheerfulness is annoying.
“I am Rob.” he says in a low voice.
She offers him a seat. He sits down waiting patiently for the explanation.
“How did you know I was going to end my life?” he asks.
She begins to write. He reads.
“I saw you taking the furniture and rope upstairs with a sorrowful face. I knew something was up.” -she continues writing- “I have been observing your footsteps for quite time now. You usually wake up late.”
“One early morning, your foot steps were too loud. I realized it must be something important if you have to wake up early.”
This girl thought the details that even I could not think of.
“I heard the sounds of footsteps but yours were not steady. They paced too fast, which was quite unusual of you.”
Yeah, deciding to kill yourself is troublesome.
“So, I wanted to tell you that I am here to listen and willing to be your friend.” she stops writing.
His heart filled with the happiness after reading the word “friend”. Nobody considered him worthy enough to be friend.
“Coffee? You look like you have rough past few days.” She offered.
“Yes please.” She keeps the notebook in her lap and goes to the kitchen with him.
She would be here for some days and then leave me. Then what? Hang myself again?
She pulled his shirt. “What happened? You look sad again.” she asked.
“You would leave too later on.”
Her eyes twinkled with laughter.
“If you are not having any hope, then be hope for others. Would you like to volunteer with me today?” she wrote.
He saw her in a new light. She has no hope for herself, so she became hope for others.
He hung his head in embarrassment. He wanted to end his life because he did not feel important to anyone. In reality, he never tried to be important to anyone.
“Just a minute.” he said to her and rushed back to his apartment.
He removes the knot from the ceiling. He smiles at the knot. Maybe after a long time in his life, he smiled again.
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